The Cale Corevor Chronicles
by kagehisa
Summary: Destiny has a funny way of shaping someone's life. A simple college student had library duty when he found a book. This one event started a chain of events no one could anticipate, nor fathom the deapth of his influence when he chose to do the impossible.


Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who, but I do own all (Original) characters in this fanfic. This story takes place in the Doctor Who universe.

**The Cale Corevor Chronicles**

**_Messengers from the Dark_**

_London, England. January, 2008_

I'm bored out of my mind. Seriously, why did I have to be assigned library duties when I had enough homework to leave me behind for two months? I've got Geometry, History, Biology, Latin, German, French and Advanced Chemistry –Christ be damned to the nine pits of Hell, what else?!

What pisses me off the most though is the fact I was bullied into taking the full duty. Mike and Charlie were supposed to do this, but they figured to force me into doing it instead, said they'd leave me with bruises if I didn't cooperate.

I'm not a fighter; Hell I try to avoid trouble if I can, but I made sure they paid for their threat. Sure, I got hit a few times, but those poor suckers were limping back to their dorms. Mind you, the black eye they left me and the other purple bruises sting like the bloody hells. That's what I get for fighting Football players. I don't fancy our college team in the next season game, though.

Even after they left, here I am organizing books and putting up volumes and novels and stories onto bookshelves like the London College Library's librarian. I figured, to hell with it! I needed some new books anyway, and I doubt the library will be missing the ones I need –they got hundreds of copies for student-use anyway- so I might as well take the chance to get what I need while I'm here.

Damn, but it is cold in here; I'm shivering. And I can't help but feel like I'm not alone in this building. Despite the cold, I feel a sheen of nervous sweat break out across my forehead, and my glasses fogged up. I wipe away the moisture and climbed down the ladder I was using to reach the higher-shelved books.

Unfortunately, my hand slipped just four steps off the floor. And I fell flat on my arse. "Son of a whore!"

It was dead at night. The library was closed, and I lit only a few candles and lamps to get around without knocking anything over. The wooden walls were so hard and thick they made every sound drag and echo. No surprise my groaned curse traveled far and loud in the otherwise silent library halls and isles. I half-expected the dorms only the next building over to wake up shouting at the loud noise. No sound answered back.

Getting off the hard, cold floor, I rubbed by sore backside while trying –with little success- at holding in that pained groan. I wonder if this is how fresh inmates feel after getting their "personal" introduction with their cellmates.

A book falls on my head, spine-first and I swore again. I've got bad luck pissing on me tonight. I pick up the book while rubbing my sore head, and read the title:

**_Anomalies _**

**_and _**

**_Unexplained Sightings _**

**_Across History_**

Mildly interested, I tucked the book under my arm and went back to the table I gathered all the other books I needed, pulling up my lunch bag. I made a roast beef sandwich, barbeque ribs and Lays sour cream-and-onion chips. I always have a snack at night; can't help it I've got a high metabolism. It's why I'm rather skinny. I've almost no body fat to speak of.

A sound whispered to my ears. It was so faint, but it almost sounded like a pad of footsteps, muffled by thick cloth or rubber. I stood up from my chair and went to investigate.

It's almost second-nature, the way I walk around so quietly. I always set my heel first then roll the pads of my foot down on the ground, always in smooth motion. People won't hear a step unless I make a conscious effort to step loudly and not surprise anyone half to death.

I peaked around the corner into the hallway. No one was there. No one- Wait, what was that? It looked like a shadow flickered across the wall from another hallway. Was there someone else here?

Come to find after investigating, there was no one else. No other lights were turned on, all the doors were locked –except for the doors I needed to get back out the Library- and I heard nothing else. No footsteps, no voices, just me alone in a building full of books. Maybe I'm losing my mind, wasting my time in dusty tomes. Or maybe my bad luck is turning me insane? Whatever.

Striding back to the room with my food, I sat back down in my chair to finish my midnight meal, flipping open the book I found. At a random page, I found a scripture of Egyptian text translated from an ancient slab, nearly three thousand years ago. It read:

_"Watch above as the Soaring Temple rides the winds through the heavens, a chariot heralding a God in the form of man himself. He is the storm, the day and night, fire and ice, a star which burns any and all things that threaten what He holds dear._

_Watch above for the blue box, 'fore inside this great temple, diminutive by appearance but grand from within, lies the man with knowledge to shatter the stars._

_Watch for the blue box._

_Watch for the Doctor."_

The Doctor? A soaring temple? It's a blue box? Wait, in lamest terms, how is it put? The "Soaring Temple" is…bigger on the inside? That's something new. It even had a photo of the chiseled picture on the lower page, a blue box that kinda looked like a phone booth. I reached over into my box for a rib-

Instead by fingers touched bone. Confused, I plucked out the rib bone from my box and inspected it. It was smooth, but dry. There wasn't any meat on the bone at all. A quick inspection inside the rest of the box confirmed the other ribs were also bare and stripped of all meat, and even my sandwich was gone. The only thing left were the chips and the wrappings.

Food can't just vanish in thin-air. But who the bloody hell could taken my sandwich and stripped my ribs bare without seeing anything? It was right next to me, in my field of vision. I saw nothing move, no change. So what-

I did a double-take. I stared at the lunch box with wide eyes. I knew there was something wrong with the picture, but I couldn't figure what. It wasn't undamaged, discolored, or in any different shape than before. But that's when I noticed it.

A second shadow.

The only light in the room was the lamp on the table next to mine on my right. Naturally, the light would cause the shadows to point in the opposite direction.

And yet there was an arrow, like a wedge of black, merged with the shadow of my lunch box, leaning in the wrong direction, pointing toward the light at a 90 degree angle. I stared at the shadow marker, unable to believe what was right in front of me, trying to see if an invisible object was casting the shadow, but there was nothing there after waving my hand around the spot.

Too scared and confused to stay and ask questions, I picked up my books –including the one that fell on my head- and bolted straight out of the library without a backward glance.

* * *

"Quit yankin' my chain, Cale. You think I'm gonna believe 'at bullshit? Seriously mate, you been sampling that bong I got ya for Christmas?" I'm surprised Patrick didn't comment on my black eye. Then again, I'm the ghost in the hallways. No one notices.

Nearly black as oil, Patrick was my friend, one of the few I had in first year of college. I just told him about what happened last night and, naturally, he thought I got high and drew delusions. Seriously, I don't smoke cigs, and I don't take drugs. Then again, maybe having a pick-me-up pill might calm my nerves down from the night before. I can't stop thinking about it.

Oh, I forgot. Didn't mention my name. It's Cale Corevor. Don't ask where it came from. Couldn't tell you if I knew.

"Patrick, I trashed that bong you gave me months ago. Besides, I don't like to take drugs to take off the stress. Fuck's with my head too much. Anyway I didn't expect ya to believe me, I just wanted to tell someone and get it off my chest. Hadn't had a good night sleepin'."

Patrick threw his arm around my neck and came in close. "Listen mate. Just forget abou' it. Maybe your head's playin' games wit'ch'er eyes and seein' things." He slapped my back good-naturedly, rising to his feet. "Come on chap, we got class startin' in five minutes with Mrs. Brendonberg in History. Great place to have a nap wit' th' Hag blathering about so much."

Five hours later, stuck in Biology class, I was still thinking about it. Mr. Rollings the chemist was rubbing his balding head while staring out at us through his thick horn-rimmed glasses while we finished our written test about the making and analyzing of chemicals and elements. I was done within five minutes before the bell rang, and I was ushered out into the throng of cramped, flooded hallways with everyone trying to shove past one another in corridors too thin for heavy traffic. Seriously, what idiot drew up the construction plan for this place? It's built tighter than a maximum security prison.

My curiosity was killing me. I had to go back to the library and see what it was that ate my food and made that shadow.

First things first, though. I need to finish my homework. I went back to my dorm room without a word to any of the few friends I have before I left the school building. I shut and locked my dorm room the second I got back. Without a care, I dropped my backpack and spilled all my books and papers to do my school work.

Thanks to the books I "borrowed" from the library, I finished in almost no time. At least I didn't need too much help with Math; I was already good with calculations to only need a book for references. Needed a book for History and Latin, but Chemistry was a no-brainer; Mr. Rollings even told me I had a gift with it. Maybe I should be a Chemist?

I still had three hours before the college library closed, so I'll wait until then and sneak in when no one's around. So what should I do until then?

I stared at the book, _Anomalies and Unexplained Sightings Across History_, for a good minute before I opened it to the first page. The book was basically a record of strange sightings popping up across the world during different time periods through eye-witness accounts, unexplained events that even forensic science today can't solve, even strange beings that looked like they came from another world. Hell, I'm willing to believe it after all the alien sightings across London and the rest of the world. Those tiny white things parading through the streets and the ship that came and picked them up not three days ago; that giant star blasting electricity from above the city on Christmas; the hospital vanishing; the ghosts which were Cybermen and those "peppershaker" things that kept shouting "Exterminate!" I was turning into a real believer of this stuff I would've called nonsense at any other time.

I must've scrolled through dozens of articles. Creatures called "Pyroviles" which were said to have been seen during ancient Roman times. Lockness monster, werewolves being creatures from another world, vampires spawn of viruses, and a secret organization working for Britain rumored to collect alien technology and fight hostile invaders called Torchwood.

But one thing that kept popping up on almost every article was the Blue Box and The Doctor.

Turning another page, I stopped when I came across the section title of a new creature. The picture under the title was an amalgam of all different shapes of a shadow, some like tendrils, others like arrows or fanged jaws or grasping hands. I read the title aloud:

"Vashta Nerada." I felt a shiver run down my spine just saying the name.

Reading the section about the creature –correction, _creatures;_ plural- it described the race as a swarm or colony of tiny creatures, no larger than dust, which show themselves only as shadows. As I read more and more about them, I felt dread slowly chilling my blood to ice. They marked their "prey" by using shadows which aren't supposed to be there and can strip meat off bones in the blink of an eye, if there's a large enough number of them.

Their status as such capable predators earned them the name "Piranhas of the Air". Their only detriment was strong light.

Piranhas of the air? Strip meat off bones in an instant? And they "shadow-mark" their "prey"? I couldn't believe it. I read through the rest of the article on them, and found their habitat focused around woodlands, mainly due to spreading their spores into wood and hatch. As a result, their habitats include even large collections of books and libraries.

My god. I can't believe this. It was crazy. Vashta Nerada ate my midnight snack? Suddenly I felt like every shadow in the room was hiding them, waiting to strip me clean of all my meat-

Wait, calm down a minute. Think! The book said they mark their prey before they consume it. But they never marked _me_! They only marked my lunch box. So they only wanted my lunch, otherwise they would've eaten me as well, instead of distracting me to pull me away from my book table.

Regardless, I had to know for myself. I jumped off my bed and went to my dresser drawers, pulled one out, and picked up a black nylon pack. I also took a flashlight and went into the kitchen. I shoved some leftover ribs and drumsticks and any other leftover meats into a plastic bag, just in case.

I left my dorm room in such a hurry I forgot to lock the door, but I didn't stop until I was down the stairs and our the dorm's doors. I was huffing and puffing like mad, looking both directions down the street for signs of passing cars. It was nearly midnight; everyone was dead-asleep.

Except for the bastard I really didn't want to run into. None other than Charlie Fieldman, the sucker I left to limp home after he and his friend Mike tried to bully into taking their library duty. Looks like he came back for round two. He was broad-shouldered and muscular like a body-builder, and easily a head taller than me with a shaved head.

"Hey Cale. I've been lookin' everywhere for ya. That kick in my balls still feels sore, so I think-"

"Piss off you inbred gorilla." I scoffed. "And don't say 'think' when you have almost no brain to speak of. Leave the thinking to those of us that actually use them, dick head."

It might've been comical on any other night the way he predictably exploded into motion after me with a rage-twisted face, but I was too busy running away toward the library to give it much consideration. One thing about having big muscles was that they weighed you down; too bad the dumb idiot didn't put that into consideration when he started taking steroids to make his arms thicker. They didn't exactly help with running.

Me on the other hand, I was built like a runner. A race horse might beat me in speed, but an oaf like Charlie? Not in this lifetime.

One thing I forgot though, was that being a football player meant having a lot of stamina. I felt like my limbs were bound in steel wire, my lungs were burning cold, my heart was pumping battery acid, and a knife was jammed in my ribs from a rather painful stitch. I must've been running nonstop for ten minutes, but Charlie-boy was only seconds behind me.

I rounded another street corner –I haven't a clue where I'm going, or where I am now- and come up on a large office building. I make for the entrance, change my mind after remembering it was too late for anyone to be inside, and sprint to the nearest trash can. Maybe I can hide in one until Charlie-boy gives up chasing me.

The closest one I found was by the lower parking entrance. I pulled up the lid and hopped inside, setting the lid back on the metal rim as I tried to slow and control my breathing. At least it was only paper cups and shredded scraps in the bin, so it didn't stink with rotten food or spoiled drinks. Something poked me in the butt, and I bring up to my face to inspect it. Just a damn fancy ballpoint pen. I tucked the pen into my pocket just when I heard Charlie's clopping steps.

His shoes made scuffing noises as he came closer, but I knew he didn't know where I was, otherwise he'd just run and rip open the trash lid. Lucky for me, he just happened to stop at this bin to catch his breath. He was huffing and puffing like crazy.

"Sonnava bitch! I'll kill that little shit when I find him."

_'Not today you don't, Charlie-boy'_. I popped out the trashcan with the lid in hand and brought it down on Charlie's head like a pan. The lid was ceramic and heavy, but it broke on contact with the brute's head and dropped him like a bag of meat. Shards of dark ceramic littered around his prone body. I hopped out of the bin and glanced up at the building I hadn't had a chance to see in my haste. I'll be damned; ADIPOSE INDUSTRIES. That was that pharmaceutical place that made those weight-loss pills that were so popular. Wasn't this where that big space ship hovered over and picked up those little white creatures three days ago?

I shrugged, unconcerned with it. I glance back down to Charlie and grinned.

"Nighty-night, Charlie-boy. See ya tomorrow." Slapping my hands like I just did a job well done, I strolled away back to the college library with an extra beat to my step. It may sound evil, but knocking out Charlie-boy felt damn good.

But as I came closer to the library, my high spirits sank like a rock at sea. I felt my blood going cold again, and my hands wouldn't stop shaking. Still, it didn't stop me from taking out the nylon pack from my backpack and zip it open, revealing my lock-picking tools. What? You didn't think I still had the key, did you? I gave it back to the librarian the second I got back to the dorms. Didn't mean I hadn't plan for an alternative method of getting back inside.

Carefully setting one of the lock-picks in the key hole, I took another pick shaped like the underside outline of a key and wiggled it in, alternately twisting and turning the pick until I heard a "click". I gripped the door knob and turned it with the picks still in the lock, and the door was open. I'm damn good at opening doors.

Using my flashlight, I pointed it to every light-switch and turned on the lights in the hallways leading to the book collections. Just to make sure I could see where the shadow-piranhas might come at me. There was still the chance they might make me a special course on their food menu.

I used my lock-picks to open the doors leading to the book section, and shoved the double-doors open. I stayed just outside the door frame as I watched the hallway light spill into the room on the floor.

I cleared my throat. "I know what you are. I know you can hear me. But I didn't come here to threaten any of you. I just want to talk and…listen what you might have to tell me. The fact that you didn't strip me down to my bones tells me you wanted something from me. So here I am.

"Come out, Vasta Nerada."

As soon as I spoke their name, slivers and tendrils of shadow stretched out from the darkness along the hallway light toward me on the polished wood floor like writhing black snakes. I'm really glad I didn't have anything to drink today, otherwise I was sure I'd piss my pants at that moment. Still, I wasn't shaking as much as before. At least I was adapting to the situation.

Sliding my pack off my shoulders, I pulled out the bag full of leftover meats and opened it. The shadows suddenly stopped short, as if they smelled what was inside the bag in my hands. I picked out a drumstick and tossed it into the shadows.

It was a clean bone by the time it hit the floor! Damn these things were ravenous. Shadows with an appetite indeed. I hope this meat will keep them from picking me out of their teeth.

Figuring I didn't want to annoy them by throwing one piece of meat at a time to them like a zoo animal, I threw the whole bag into the dark and hoped that would satisfy them.

It must have, since the shadows drew back into the darkness of the library. Maybe they could only communicate through darkness itself and couldn't when someone was in the light? Worth a shot.

Bad move on my part. As soon as I left the light of the hallway, the doors slammed shut, encasing me in total pitch. The only light was the feeble street lights shining in from outside through the windows. I stood perfectly still, hoping I wasn't going to die but too scared and waiting for the suspense to end.

**_"You know our name."_**

The voice that spoke wasn't human. No, in fact, it was so far from human, I thought it was from a hellish demon. It was strong, soft, feminine and sibilant all at the same time. It sounded like it came from everywhere around me at once, or right next to my ear. I was completely at their mercy.

At least my voice was steady. "Yeah."

**_"How did you learn our name?"_**

"…the book I found last night. I learned practically all I could about you from it."

**_"So why come back after knowing what we are? What we do?"_**

I didn't know that myself. It was only an impulse that dragged me here. Or rather, what _lead _me here. I just wanted to know. That distinctive drive to explore the unventured. There never was a plan, no goal or ulterior motive. I just had to know.

"There was no reason. At least none that would make sense. I just felt I had to know. Humans are too curious for their own good, sometimes. It's a wonder we've lasted so long."

**_"Indeed."_**

Minutes passed so slowly, I could measure them by the beating of my heart, _thud-thud-thud_. What would they do? Were they actually considering my explanation? And if they were, what would they do? Let me live? Kill me to ensure their secrecy? I'm not fancying my chances of living past tonight very much at the moment.

**_"You intrigue us. Few have ever approached us without cruel intent or exploitive incentives."_**

"Did you like the ribs and drumsticks?"

Silence again. I wonder if they were getting annoyed with me. Still, no going back now.

**_"They were delicious. Thank you for the meat."_**

"Just so long as I stay off your menu, you're welcome."

I heard the shadows chuckle all around me. How do you like that? Shadows with an appetite have a sense of humor. Who knew?

"By the way, my name's Cale Corevor. What should I call-"

I suddenly heard a loud noise coming from the hallways, like doors opening and slamming shut. Someone else was inside the library right now, and I don't think they came to catch up on their reading.

**_"We must go now. Goodbye, Cale Corevor. We shall meet again."_**

I had no time to ask them to stop; the doors flew wide open and I turned around to see none other than Charlie-boy, mad as hell and looking to murder someone. I have a sneaking suspicion it might be me.

"Cale, you little shit! I'm gonna kill ya for hittin' me!"

I hadn't bothered to hide. He and I held complete eye-contact. "About time you found me. What, did you search half of London before your pea-brain remembered to try back at the campus? Well done!" I clapped, further enraging the gorilla. "Someone give the monkey a banana! He has memory-"

My goading was cut short when I saw several more shadows stretch along the walls in the hallway behind Charlie, and they were coming right this way. Worse, I think I saw one of the silhouettes carrying a firearm. My high spirits were dropping faster than an atom bomb. "Charlie, did you bring any friends?"

"Of course not! 'Cause I'm gonna beat your ass all by myself." He sneered, approaching me threateningly while cracking his knuckles.

"I think we need to leave the library right now-"

A stampede of hard boots hitting the hard floor drowned out whatever I was going to finish saying. The footsteps drew both Charlie's and my attention to the door, where some ten or so men in S.W.A.T. gear flooded into the book room, leveling semi-autos and AK-47's and S.M.G.'s at the both of us with flashlights blinding our eyes. I put my arm over my eyes to block the light.

"Hands up now!" One of the gunmen yells, on my right with a sub-machine gun level and his finger on the trigger. "On your knees and put your goddamn hands on your heads or else!"

I took my time to do as they said, leisurely setting myself down into a kneel and putting my hands behind my head, but Charlie-boy, too-damn-stubborn for his own good, had too much pride and adrenaline to let anyone order him around. "Oh yeah? Make me!"

I heard a gunshot go off like the crack of thunder, just inside the space of the entry door. I swore my eardrum split open from the noise; I wouldn't be surprised if my ears were bleeding. A glance to Charlie showed he was still alive, but scared as hell. At least they hadn't shot him. Yet.

"That was a warning. And that's the only courtesy you'll be getting from us, jockey. Now get on your knees before I change my mind."

Charlie went down to his knees without another word, though he glared murderously at me as if I was responsible for this mess. I rolled my eyes. Really, what an idiot.

Still, what the hell were these guys doing here, anyway? And on the subject, WHO were they and WHAT did they want? They didn't have any recognizable symbols or crests or anything that identified them with British Special Forces or S.W.A.T. or anything. Were they mercenaries here to retrieve someone?

One of the gunmen touched his ear-piece radio device. "Infiltration successful, sir….No, no trouble. The doors were already unlocked and open….We found two subjects inside already……No, no sign of anything yet….Yes, sir…..Roger, I'll ask them." He turned to both Charlie and me. "State your name."

Football star spoke first. "Charlie Fieldman."

I sighed. He sounded really pathetic right now. "Name's Cale Corevor. Who wants to know who the fuck we are?"

My loose tongue earned me a hit with the butt of a rifle in the back of my head. My vision swam as I hit the floor face-first, but at least I didn't fall unconscious. I groaned loudly and picked myself back up in a kneeling position.

"You will refrain from asking unnecessary questions and speak only when spoken to or when we tell you otherwise. As of right now, your asses belong to us."

Oh, joy. What else could go wrong for me?

"Well, I'll be damned! You just had to come back, didn't you Cale?"

I stiffened. I know that voice. I looked up at the face of one of the men coming through the doorway flanked by two other soldiers. His skin was black as oil and his frame was nearly as thin as mine. I spoke to him only this morning as his friend.

"Son of a bitch."

Patrick grinned at me with pearly-white teeth that seemed to glow in the darkness of the lightless room. "Didn't expect to see me like this, right? Well, life has a habit of throwing curved balls at ya when you least expect it."

"It didn't make sense why these men were here until you showed up. You're after whatever it is I told you about this morning at school, aren't you? What's in this library."

Patrick's grin stretched like a cat's cornering a mouse. "Pretty smart, Cale. Always figured you were heads above the rest in that cesspit of a school when it came to thinkin'. Always using your brain in ways no one ever dreamed of applying, always thinking outside the box. I knew my plan would pay off in the long run."

At first I didn't understand what he meant. "You've been watching me? Posing as me friend for…what? What do I have that-"

"Smarts, Cale. Remember that little algorithm and encryption key you created so we could breach into porn sites with? That's what I need you for. Your ingenuity. And it's thanks to that little formula-" Patrick spread his arms wide, "-you are now looking at the most powerful men in the world!"

I still didn't get what he was going on about. "Stop dancing around the answer and just tell me what the hell you mean."

Patrick's grin vanished. "Fine. You want the answer? Okay. But I won't tell you; I'll show you."

"Sir." One of Patrick's men called. "What about this one?" He gestured to Charlie with his gun muzzle.

"Take him with us. It'll be a nice treat for him to see something amazing before we dispose of him. Cuff him and Cale, and put them in the van. Bring in my Searchers to scan every nook and cranny inside the building. On the double!"

Two men went behind me and Charlie with plastic cords, binding our hands tight behind our backs and hauling us on our feet. If I'm right in my guess, he's after the Vashta Nerada, but doesn't really know what they are or what they can do.

Still, I didn't object. Not like I could. I just followed the gunmen as they led us outside and into a large black van. They shoved us inside the back of the vehicle and slammed the doors shut, encasing us in total darkness.

* * *

"Well, what do you think, Cale? Is it a nice hideaway or what?" Patrick asked while spreading his arms wide, showing us a large storage facility boarded up and abandoned for nearly a decade. The windows were shuttered closed tightly with sheets of metal and the storage doors were padlocked like it was quarantined.

I quirked an eyebrow. "Or what is a good question."

Patrick laughed loudly, but his men stood silent with weapons ready and all devoid of expression. They were all business. Charlie-boy behind me looked ready to snap and make a break for it.

We were led into the storage building with five guns at our backs and three men in the front, not including Patrick who took the lead. He pulled out a small device like a car key auto-lock and pressed the blue button, opening one of the padlocked doors –it opened from the middle and sideways like an elevator door- and we went inside the seeming empty and trash-littered interior. All that was inside the building were support pillars and loose sheets of newspapers.

We walked for another ten paces when we stopped just in the middle of the wide floor. Patrick took his beeper-device and handrails sprang up around us in a four-sided box. The square panel was large enough to comfortably hold twenty people.

Apparently it was an elevator panel, which lowered down past the floor into a chute with gear-treads and winch chains on two sides of it. It lowered down at about three feet per second, but it took about four minutes before the panel finally came to a stop. I didn't know what was around me, since the lights were off and it was completely pitch black, but I knew we were in a wide corridor.

Patrick clapped. "Lights!"

Dull blue lights lining along the walls, ceiling, and floor led to a room with grid-paneled floors, thick steel pipes running along the ceilings and the walls to the floor. Thick electrical conduits and cables and wires criss-crossed like a net above some of the latest and most advanced technology equipment right out of a scifi-lover's dream: Computer consoles, hard-drive towers, large-panel monitor screens, the works. Trails of lights lit a path across the bare cement floors with hallways leading off in different directions.

"Welcome to Deadbranch Head Quarters, Cale. A much more…efficient agency that'll effectively replace the secret government group called Torchwood. This facility actually belongs to Torchwood; one of their backup centers if their Head Quarters were destroyed. Or it was, until we took it. Besides, I doubt it'll matter much, since they won't be around for very long to utilize it.

"And guess what Cale: the key-encryption algorithm you developed, we then altered and changed to breach Torchwood's security systems and hacked their network, taking all their files on their alien captures and the technology they managed to scan and study. All their power and technological science is ours."

Oh, you've got to be shittin' me. You mean to tell me a little program I used to get free porn, Patrick then used to take control of a secret government agency that fights against invading aliens and takes their technology? This day just keeps getting worse.

Still, I'll play along and act aloof. "Okay, so you got a shitload of cool advanced stuff. But what the hell do you plan to do with it? Sell reverse-engineered versions of your weapons and everything to the highest bidder? Take over Britain's government? The world? Throw me a frickin' bone here!"

Patrick was still grinning. He must like talking to show his superiority. Maybe I can use that to my advantage. "Actually Cale, I plan to do all of the above. Once I sell down-graded copies of all the devices and weapons to Britain's enemy countries, they'll then start an arms race, leading to a new war. Once the conflict spreads across the planet, we'll then use your key-encryption program, shut down all the Earth's satellites and defense systems, and utilize Torchwood's weapons to destroy every key military center and nation's capital. With the world in disarray, we'll be in total control with our technology."

Gods above be damned! These bastards are going to take over the world and send it into war, and they're going to use my damn encryption-key algorithm to cripple the world's defenses. "What about Torchwood? Won't they realize what you're doing and try to stop you? I mean, they must have the technology to check for breaches in their system."

"Thanks to your program, Cale, I've effectively raised a blind-spot barrier to any and all forms of scanning, and there's little to no chance of your algorithm being traced to our location." Patrick turned and strode over to Charlie, who seemed like he wanted to crawl under a rock right now. "Tell me, Charlie-boy. What's it like witnessing history in the making? Watching the culmination of the greatest take-over in human history must feel very humbling, doesn't it?"

Charlie didn't say anything. Hell, I'm at a loss for words myself. The world is going to ruin and billions of lives will be destroyed, and all because of my damn hacking program.

Patrick waved to three of his men. "Send these two into the holding cells with the weevils. Maybe giving the ravenous beasts some company will serve them good. I think it's been a while since we last fed the monsters."

Oh, shit. He's tossing us in a feeding pen. "I'm not one to beg or anything, but couldn't ya just erase our memories with one of your alien-tech devices or something? I'm really allergic to dying."

Patrick cackled like mad, so loud it reverberated throughout the confined room. "As a matter of fact, we do have such a device on hand. But it takes too much energy to use it and erase memories. Besides, there's always the risk of a synapse-feedback and your memory restores itself. Safer to just kill you."

"Then why don't you just shoot us, for Pete's sake?!"

"And waste the ammo when I could leave disposing of you to our test-subjects? Nah, I like my way much better. Now, no more dawdling. Take them away."

"Before you do," I said just as the gunmen came up behind us, "tell me, what did you find at the library? Just curious."

Patrick's expression changed immediately to sour. Looks like he didn't have much luck finding the Vashta Nerada. "My Searchers couldn't find a damn thing. Not even a trace of any alien signatures. Just a few bones from leftover meats, like ribs and chicken bones. But that doesn't matter now." He turned to his gunmen. "Toss them in the holding cells on the double. Don't waste your time talking with them, just do it. Dismissed."

* * *

"Goddamn you, Cale! This is all your fault!!"

I really wish I could tell Charlie-boy to stuff that accusation right up his ass, but I just couldn't even bring myself to speak. The fact that my best friend in college had been fooling me all along, took one of my computer programs and was about to start World War III left me in shock. I couldn't help but feel guilty about the tens of millions -no, BILLIONS- of lives that would suffer and die all because of me. I've opened Pandora's Box, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

Charlie-boy and I weren't alone in this eight-sided prison cell. One side was the only door in and out of the cell, while the other seven sides were actually cages housing the ugly monsters Patrick called "Weevils"; human by body shape but with pale, pinkish, hairless heads and faces contorted into beastial, vicious snarls with long, sharp teeth and glowing yellow eyes in deep-set sockets. Sharp-clawed hands rattled at the bars holding them prisoner, while animalistic screeches, roars and hisses echoed throughout the small confines of the room. Barely five feet separated them from me and Charlie-boy, whom wisely chose to stay in the middle of the room. But why hadn't the cages been opened yet? Was Patrick trying to make us more scared by prolonging our exposure to these monsters? Make us go insane by having the weevils screech and hiss and drive us to sleep-deprived lunacy? Or was it time-set to release them?

That brought another idea to mind. Did Patrick leave the compound already? I shook my head to rid myself of that senseless hope. Even if Patrick left the compound and I DID find some way to unlock the thick steel doors separating me from freedom (unlikely considering the bastards took my lock-picking kit, and I have no doubt it wouldn't help for shit on an electronic lock system), there was still the greater likelihood of one of Patrick's gunmen being left behind to see to our disposal. No, Patrick was no idiot to leave his compound unguarded unless he was certain no one alive knew its location.

Absently, I stuffed my hands into my jacket pockets to keep them warm when my fingers brushed against something slim and hard. I pulled it out to inspect it and found it was the pen I picked up when I was hiding in that trash can to hide from Charlie-boy. I twirled it around between my fingers, trying to distract myself from the weevil's hellish noises, with little success. I know I should be terrified right now, but really, what the hell can I do? Any scared person would be frantically searching for a means to escape, but I already KNOW there is no escape.

I glance up from the corner of my eye to a black bulb nearly invisible in the dim red light from the ceiling light. It was obviously a camera to monitor us, and there were two more along the ceiling as well. I wouldn't put it past that bastard Patrick to have the record button set when he opened the weevil's cages for the feeding frenzy. Twiddling the pen between my fingers, I wondered what other kind of alien technology Patrick had taken from Torchwood, mildly considering if there was an explosive shove down Patrick's pants and blow him up from the waist down. Now THAT'S something I'd like to see-

My thumb pressed on the pen's clip, and suddenly a blaring noise like the frequency from a radio came from the pen, and a bright blue light flared from the tip which shined on the ceiling light bulb. The next instant, the bulb shorted out, leaving the room in total darkness. It all happened in a single second.

"What the hell?!" Charlie shouted from beside me. I hadn't even gasped when it occurred, but I felt my heart hammering in my chest like a drum.

The weevils were screeching and roaring in earnest now, rattling at their cell bars violently. Even though it was pitch black and I couldn't see a damn thing, my hunch was that they might very well rip the doors off any moment now.

**_"Hello again, Cale Corevor. We meet again."_**

This time I did gasp. I knew that voice, even amongst the panicked cries of Charlie right beside me and the weevil's snarling noises. "Vashta Nerada?" I whisper, too stunned to raise my voice. Charlie-boy wasn't paying me any attention, so I had no worries from him overhearing anything between me and the shadow-piranhas.

**_"Yes. It is us."_**

"Where the hell have you been?" I whisper harshly. "Did you follow us?"

**_"We've been with you the whole time. When the others came, we hid ourselves inside the shadows of your clothes where no light could reach us. We're here to help."_**

I felt a brief shudder pass up my spine, more than a little overwhelmed to hear I had a ravenous swarm of creatures hiding in my clothes, but I managed to compose myself. I gripped the pen tightly, my last chance to escape and get the hell out of this place.

**_"Shall we eat human and non-humans in the room? They might pose a threat to you."_**

I thought about that for a minute when I shook my head, even though no one could see me. "Don't. I'll need them to provide a distraction when I escape. One of Patrick's flunkies are probably coming down here right now with an itchy trigger finger."

**_"As you wish."_**

When the Vashta Nerada fell silent, I went to work by carefully inching my way toward the door and felt and for the key-pad, found it, then brought up the "sonic-pen" to the device. If my hunch was right (and I really hoped I was right) then this pen might be a sonic-pulse emitting tool which can scramble and short-circuit electrical devices. If it worked on the lightbulb and shorted it out, maybe it'll work for this key pad.

Pressing down on the pen-clip, the bright blue light glared from the butt-end of the pen and highlighted the key-pad in blue light. The blaring noise -and the shining light- immediately attracted Charlie's undivided -and unwanted- attention. He strode over behind me while I was busy tapping in key codes, trying to get the damn door open.

"What're you doin'?" Charlie demanded behind me.

"Shut up for a minute you big oaf. I'm trying to open the door, and you hovering over my shoulder isn't helping." When Charlie didn't back away, I turned off the sonic pen and growled under my breath in the dark. "Back the fuck off from me or I swear to Christ I'll leave you in here with the weevils."

I could tell without looking the jock wanted to hit me for that threat, but he got the message and backed away. I went back to the key pad without another word.

Ten seconds later, the key pad erupted into glowing sparks, causing me to jump back as the door slid open, leading to a hallway going left and right. With a triumphant grin, I turned back to Charlie-boy. "Go on ahead, oaf. I've got something else to do before I go."

Charlie didn't waste any time to high-tail it out of the room and turned left into the hallways, all without a backward glance as he passed me. He disappeared down the hallways nearly fifty meters away when I muttered to myself, "Sorry about this Charlie-boy, but I'm not going to die in this rat hole because of you. Maybe you and the weevils can make for a decent distraction." I turned around with the sonic pen in hand and pressed on the switch once more, aiming for the miniature lock-set devices set on the weevil's cages.

The devices all turned off instantly, and the cell doors popped open with a "Clang". The weevil's wasted no time before they shoved out of their prisons and into freedom. I took to the corridor in the exact opposite direction Charlie-boy took, the right direction. I rounded behind a corner to escape the attention of the weevils and watched them surge past me further down the corridor in search for hapless prey to feed on. God have mercy on whoever has the misfortune of running into them. Still, that didn't stop me from back-tracking to the main computer room when Charlie and I were brought to the holding cell.

A minute passed when the alarms started going off and red light started blaring from the ceiling, casting the corridor in garish luminescence. I heard the pounding of footsteps just ahead and I slipped into the first room I was closest to, locking myself in by short-circuiting the key-pad with my sonic pen once more. The room was damn dark, but after I found the light switch and flipped on the lights, I felt a smirk threaten to split my face in half.

I was in the main computer terminal. A large console and monitor screen dominated the space on the far wall with thick conduits and pipes and cables running to and from the computer, and a square-shaped clear box with a thin metal frame was set just next to the wide key board. A closer inspection of it revealed it to be a scanner of some kind. I strode over to the key board and pressed the Power switch on, activating the monitor screen which showed a series of rotating concentric circles with a logo DEADBRANCH on top of it with menu options. I managed to open the files labeled as TOP SECRET by applying my encryption-key algorithm once more, drawing out the necessary passcode and delved into the archives.

If Patrick had indeed taken all this information from Torchwood, then they must've been damn busy to have recorded all the alien-tech devices; not only with information on their utilities, but also their blueprint schematics. And there were hundreds of them. Levitating grenades, frequency scramblers, projectile weapons, defensive shield projectors, laser blasters, the works.

I needed to download these weapon schematics onto something portable to look at later. I found a small disk with a prism-like reflective surface and slid it into the disk slot, beginning the downloading process. It's not every day someone comes across alien technology, and I want to capitalize on this opportunity. While the download was going on, I checked to see what the box was for. After searching for the primary tools, it was listed as a scanner, like an x-ray machine to radio-graph items set inside. According to the logs, it had been used to scan alien devices to look into their internal mechanisms without damaging them.

Intrigued, I set my sonic pen inside the scanning compartment and set the machine to scan the pen. A grid of lights like a net fell over the pen inside the box, and a horizontal line of light went up and down over the pen, radio-graphing the device's inner-mechanisms and sending them on the monitor screen in 3D images. I was fascinated; all the inner-parts of the pen itself could be put together even with Earth's technology. I didn't think twice before I also began downloading the sonic pen's schematics onto the disk as well, and the data-burning process was almost finished-

The door behind me hissed open, and I immediately snatched the sonic pen from the scanner just as I heard a gun give a metallic click.

"Don't move. Put your hands on your head and turn around."

That voice was definitely a woman's, maybe close to around my age. "Well, which is it? Do you want me to not move or put my hands on my head and turn around? I can't do both."

"Shut up. Fine, then do the latter option. Quickly now before I lose my patience."

Feisty girl. I did as she told and turned around to face her, having managed to slip my sonic pen into my shirt sleeve as I took in the woman's profile.

Bleach-blond hair, pale skin, full lips and cheeks, and brown eyes. Black military garb and a Barrette Rifle leveled to shoot me in the head. Well, isn't this a fine kettle of fish I'm in.

"I don't believe we've exchanged introductions. My name's Cale Corevor. And you would be...?"

The girl smiled. Maybe she thought my light tone was amusing. "The name's Cassy Rodgers. Now, be a good boy and get on your knees before I paint the walls with your brains, cutie."

I huffed indignantly, like a pouting boy....Stop laughing, I'm buying time! "My name's Cale, not-"

"I don't give a flyin' shit what your name is. Get down on your knees or else-"

I pressed the switch on my sonic pen, aiming for the electrical wires that led to the lights above us. The shrill noise and the bright light hit dead-point and fried the circuitry, turning off the lights and sending the room in total darkness, all except for the light from the monitor screen behind me. I ducked in the same instant and rolled to my right as gun-fire exploded above me, bullets peppering the walls and shattering the monitor screen.

Cassy was still firing in more controlled bursts when the emergency light came on, revealing my location in the far corner. She leveled her gun at me again and pulled the trigger.

CLICK.

Confused, she pulled back the dispenser pin and tried again, but no more bullets fired. She quickly checked her magazine, but it still had bullets. Throughout her gun inspection, I chuckled.

"Don't waste your time, Cassy-girl. The firing pin inside the gun's been fused thanks to-" I pulled out my sonic pen for emphisis- "my sonic pen here. That gun won't be firing any more bullets any time soon."

Cassy snarled at me and her hand shot to her side arm, but I was quicker. Another shot from my sonic pen hit the grenade pinned to her flack-vest and popped out the ignition pin. Eight seconds was all she had before it went off.

"Your grenade's been armed, Cassy. Better take it off before it explodes."

I didn't wait for her to respond. I spun behind a pipe going from the floor to the ceiling just before a loud explosion like a crack of thunder blasted in the small confined room, sending debris and -what I could only assume were- body parts all over the walls. Stepping over Cassy's arm with a grimace, I went over to the computer console to see how extensive the damage was. I was impressed; only the monitor had suffered any gunshots, and even the explosion from the grenade hadn't sent any shrapnel into the computer towers. Although it had three bullet holes in the glass which fractured the screen's surface, the monitor was still working, just enough to let me see it finished its data-download onto the disk.

Just before I decided to finish up, I tried delving more into the systems deeper programs, searching for my computer algorithm program. Nothing popped up even remotely close to what I was looking for. Patrick must've either had it on another computer terminal or maybe-

On a disk.

Damn it. He's probably got the damn thing with him. Looks like I'll have to find him and destroy that disk before he actually does start Armageddon with it.

Popping out the disk from the CD compartment and slipping it into my pocket, I made my way over to the door while stepping over the body pieces of what used to be Cassy, as well as avoiding slipping on the blood puddles. The key pad was still working on this side of the door and I used the sonic pen send a frequency through the device to bring up the key sequence on the tiny rectangular red display above the number keys. The numbers 1357 popped up and I punched them in, opening the door and, after doing a scan down both directions of the hallway, went back to my original course toward the elevation platform.

Just as I was about to round the corner into the main computer room where the elevation platform drops into, a hail of gunfire peppered the concrete walls and floors, missing me by inches.

"Oi, Cale! I didn't tag you there, did I? Damn shame to kill you quickly with this gun of mine than to take my time paying you back for your interference."

Patrick. Bastard had some balls coming back. But why did he return? "Missed me or something, Patrick? I thought you and your men had left someplace."

"We did, until the alarms went off about a security breach. As soon as the alarms were triggered, the security override opened the system lock we set around the perimeter and was detected by Torchwood HQ. Now U.N.I.T. and Torchwood are hunting down and rounding up my men. It'll only be minutes before they arrive at this compound."

I felt a smirk of triumph. Take that, you bastard. "Looks like your operation's gone down the toilet. How about ya just throw in the towel already? Any sane person would do the same."

I might've said more, except a prick of pain began blossoming around my gut. My hand went to the spot and touched at my pants, and I felt something wet. Bringing my hand up to my face, it was red. It was my blood. A second look at where I was bleeding confirmed my fears: I got hit by one of Patrick's bullets, and I was starting to bleed much more freely.

Was it a ricochet? Or was I too distracted to even notice it? Had my endorphins blocked out the pain so quickly? How long did I have before-

No, focus damn it! If I panic now, I'll only speed up the bleeding. I need to get past Patrick, but I can't afford to wait too long.

"Why throw in the towel? I can still utilize your key-encryption algorithm and take another compound, gather more men, start all over. I'll I need to do is kill you and I'm on my way."

Now I know the bastard had my modified program on a disk: It'd be impossible to just simply type in the algorithm's information on a computer. Still, I can't afford to leave it to the hands of someone else.

With nothing else on hand, I twisted the sonic pen's "cap" and pressed the switch, aiming for the light bulbs lining the walls and ceiling. The blue light and shrill noise hit the bulb right across from me, making all the lights flicker on and off as the sonic pulses from the pen began to cut off the electrical current running into them.

In the hall around the corner, I heard Patrick shout, "What the hell is that?!"

And then the lights went out.

Now I felt the pain full force. Distantly, I heard Patrick's footsteps approaching, and I had no way to defend myself or a place to run away to. Even if it was practically pitch dark, I didn't doubt he had night-vision goggles on hand to see and shoot me. My hand clutched at my gut as I slid down the wall to the floor, panting and breathless. I've lost so much blood; I felt the wet fabric of my pants chaff against my leg.

_**"Cale Corevor."**_

I couldn't help but chuckle. Talk about great timing. I had no strength to speak; breathing was becoming too much of a chore as is, but I tried to send a message through my mind. I hoped it would work. _'Hello again, Vashta Nerada. Sorry to ask ya, but would it be too much trouble to get rid of Patrick before he kills me?'_

When only silence answered, I was just about ready to throw the towel. But then I heard them.

_**"Our pleasure."**_

My grin grew wider. "Guess what, Patrick?"

In the dark, I heard a metallic click and the scuff of rubber from hard shoes; Patrick turning to the source of my voice and leveling his gun. "What, Cale? Any last words?"

I couldn't help but chuckle, which must've confused the bastard. This was just like in an action film. "You're dead."

Anything else he might have said was smothered with a brief scream of agony and the sounds of a hundred-thousand bites like the feeding frenzy of a swarm of locusts; an indescribable sound that left me chilled to the bone and sick to my stomach. Then there was only silence.

Something light and dull clattered to the floor, along with an unmistakable crash of Patrick's gun. Something hit my foot, and I reached out in the dark and felt a bone.

Somewhat nauseated but curious, I used my sonic pen to turn the lights back on and the darkness lifted away. At my feet was a whole skeleton stripped bare and clean of any meat or flesh, all of which were still inside the tattered remains of what used to be a black military uniform and an S.M.G. The aforementioned bone I picked up was a rib, and I threw it away with a grimace.

"Thanks, Vash. I owe you one."

**_"Vash?"_**

"Just a nickname. Calling you Vashta Nerada all the time is kind of a mouthful. Do you mind?"

_**"Not at all. And you're welcome."**_

God I was tired. But I had to get out of here. "Let's get going. I need some rest."

Just when I was going to push myself off the floor, Charlie-boy arrives from around the corner. Fucking Hell.

Still, I tried to be nonchalant. "Hey Charlie-boy. Give me a hand?"

It might've been because he thought he owed me for setting us free from our holding cell. Maybe he took pity on me because I was injured. Nonetheless, I was still surprised he grabbed me by my shoulder and hoisted me up with barely any strength. I still let out a pained groan as the slight movement made my injury protest. He took my arm and held it around his shoulder to help me walk to the entry corridor we came in, but I still had something to take care of.

"Hey, Charlie. Would it be too much trouble to ask another favor while we're here?"

Charlie shrugged. "Fine. What is it?"

I pointed down at my feet where Patrick's bones were piled. "Can you check the pockets real quick for a disk?"

He followed the line of where I was pointing and drew back in alarm at the sight of a full human skeleton. I'm surprised again that he hadn't seen it; but then again, the lights were flickering on and off. Maybe he just wasn't paying much attention to what was on the ground. Still, he did lean down and inspected the pockets; around the pants first, then the vest when he picked out a small disk from the chest pocket. He turned it around curiously before simply handing it to me without word.

Maybe he didn't care what was on it. He looked like he just wanted to get out of here. I know I certainly did.

We reached the elevation platform and were on our way up through the platform shaft. I was bleeding worse now; my vision was getting hazy, and my legs were feeling weak. It felt like forever until we reached the surface when the sound of sirens and revving engines warned us of approaching vehicles. Got to hand it to U.N.I.T. and Torchwood; they sure know how to come at the right time. Once the troubles over.

That was sarcasm, by the way. Fucking pricks.

And I did not want to stick around for interrogations or questions. "Let's go out the back before they spot us."

Charlie nodded and we were out of the place just in time. I heard the stampede of footsteps distantly as if from far away down a long tunnel. Charlie was saying something to me, but I couldn't hear the words.

Then I blacked out.

* * *

I woke up in the hospital, on a bed with bright and clean white blankets. My belly was still sore, but after an initial inspection, found it was cleaned and stitched up. Charlie was right beside my bed, jersey draped over his chair and dark bags under his eyes from lack of sleep.

It was too easy. I grinned at him. "What? No flowers?"

"Piss off."

I laughed; not a smart thing to do when you got a hole in your gut. I winced and groaned from the flare of pain. Charlie thought it was funny.

"Karma."

"Shut up." I snapped slightly. Once the pain faded, I sat up. "The doctor still here? Or did he finish?"

"He was done before morning. Had me fill out alot of paperwork and shit. Cost me fuckin' 400 Euros for a few stitches and the medicine crap to clean the wound or somesuch shit. You owe me money."

"Fine, fine. How the hell did'ja get here with me anyway?"

Charlie shrugged, like it wasn't even a problem. "Got a taxi. Cost twenty Euros to get to the nearest hospital. Fucker charged me extra 'cause of you bleedin'."

"I get it, alright. I'll reimburse you for your money, Christ! Can I leave?"

"Doctor didn't recommend it."

"Well, pardon my French but screw him then. I ain't stayin' here in....where the fuck are we again?"

"Royal Hope Hospital. Why?" Charlie said disinterested.

I looked at him like he was crazy. "The hospital that vanished in thin air under a storm cloud?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"......Never mind. Let's just get the hells out of here."

Why did I have such a bad feeling about all this?

Was it all coincidental? The book, the Vashta Nerada, finding that sonic pen in a trash bin at ADIPOSE INDUSTRIES?

Or did fate have a sense of humor and chose to throw a few curve balls at me?

Damn. Maybe I should'a stayed in bed.

To Be Continued....

* * *

Author's Notes:

It's done! I can't bloody believe it! After months of typing it down and repeated login failures, it's finally done! First Chapter!

First off, to any and all readers, any reviews are much appreciated. It's my first time doing a fic about the Doctor Who universe, but I've got a gut feeling this will be a winner.

To anyone curious as to where I got the main character's name (if you don't already know), I got it from the Erevis Cale Trilogy books from the Forgotten Realms series. The main character's name, Erevis Cale, was actually his chosen name after he left his old life behind, along with his former name, Vassen Corevor. I basically just put the last surnames together since he is one of my favorite characters in the Forgotten Realms series, and because I find it fitting considering the dynamics of my own character will experience in my story.

P.S.- I tried to add that English drawl to at least some part of the dialog, but maybe your imaginations can supply the rest. (On another note, Patrick's accent in his first appearance his made-up tone, when he was pretending to be friends with Cale. Just wanted to clear that out of the way.)

_**Next Time on The Cale Corevor Chronicles....**_

_"Where the hell are we, now?" Charlie demanded._

_Cale was looking all around, astonished. The planes flying overhead, the buildings and architecture of the city, the tanks, the soldiers._

_"It's not just where, Charlie. It's when."_

_"What?"_

_"This is 1940 Germany. We're in Berlin. And it's World War II."_

_Charlie looked furious. "And what the hell are doing here then?!"_

_Cale looked back, facing Charlie with an expression of absolute excitement. "To change history."_


End file.
